


Penance

by DarthFucamus



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Amputee, Anal, Dubious con, M/M, Oral, Pain, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, mindgames, rough D/s, submissive vader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9479300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthFucamus/pseuds/DarthFucamus
Summary: Darth Sidious visits Vader's fortress on Mustafar for a lesson in punishment for failure. Just an excuse for awful rarepair porn.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Покаяние](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054937) by [alessie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessie/pseuds/alessie)



> Because did anyone else see Vader's limbless body in the bacta tank and think "man, he's ripped"?  
> This... loosely takes place during Rogue One. I'll just say before Krennic comes to Mustafar.  
> Content warnings for rough sex, and consent which is dubious at best

.

The Emperor's footsteps echoed off the cavernous walls. Any creatures that were around scattered to the extensive shadows that kept one from seeing the scale of the palace. Of course, there were no native creatures on Mustafar, none but himself, the attendants, and the man he was going to see now.

Vaneé didn't run. Vaneé, mad by Sidious's judgment, barely showed fear as he bowed and scraped aside to let the Sith lord pass.

There, like a holy icon, his creature. Suspended in a tube of light, bathed in a reverse downpour of effervescence, Vader looked like a tribute to a broken god. A limbless beauty, his mottled skin illuminated by the cold white light, looking for all his incompleteness like a dancer suspended in the air, somehow unfettered despite the tubes that linked his body to the top of the tank.

 _-Master,-_ he thought in greeting. He'd sensed Sidious's presence long before his shuttle reached the landing pad. But the emperor didn't like to be greeted until they were within sight range.

"Apprentice," he said. He sensed that Vaneé was finally retreating from his position listening at the door.

_-What news?-_

Sidious didn't answer him. Instead, he approached the control panel built into the wall. He didn't bother with manually interfacing. With the wave of one hand bearing a large, ornate ring, the console chimed and the screen changed. He felt Vader's dread, his hatred. And his lips curved into a smile. He turned to face the bacta tank. The fluid level was falling, the life-sustaining bacta draining into the floor.

Vader arched his back, his thighs and elbows stretched as the tubes and cords attached to the ends of his stunted limbs stretched taut , a near involuntary reaction to succumbing to gravity after drifting weightless. Sidious saw how it made his scarred, muscular abdomen flex and tense. He saw, too, the eyes burning red over the black breather mask, boring into his master's skull like a superheated drill.

The Emperor waited until the tank was empty and the glass tube sank into the floor before he approached his apprentice. Over a decade of training and honing had made what was formerly a slave into his weapon. His monster. His novelty.

Were this any other occasion, Vaneé would have assisted Vader into his suit. Vader, of course, perfectly capable of dressing himself, and even lifting himself for a time, if his power was strong enough. But this was no ordinary visit, and so the torso hung limp and dripping as the head followed Sidious's approach.

Sidious waited for Vader to drop his eyes. He would wait as long as he needed to. Both knew that every second outside of the bacta tank or without the life support machines in his suit drew death that much closer.

The red eyes lowered to the floor and Sidious gave a subtle nod. He waved his hands. The cords suspending the creature cinched together before popping out of their ports on the bacta tank's ceiling, but for the breathing tube, which dangled in the center. The body hit the floor with a heavy, wet thud, and he tipped to the side, unbalanced for but a moment, his half-arms waving. His spine curved, and he righted himself. The tubes lay loosely jumbled around him like snakes.

Vader's breaths from inside the useless breathing mask rattled and popped like a damp log that persisted in burning. His eyes were the glowing coals, on Sidious again, but he didn't care. Vader kept his power close, now, tight to him, closed off.

Sidious stepped up to him, reached down, and ripped the black mask away from the other man's face. He tossed it aside with a clatter. Now, the scarred, hairless face looked up at him, breathing in wheezing gasps with his peeling lips parted. His wrath was palpable.

"Your failure," he started, curling his words like vines to entrap him. "Is most displeasing."

Vader wheezed and didn't break his stare, except to follow Sidious's hands as they disappeared beneath his robes.

"You have one opportunity to give satisfaction. Fail me again, and I will kill you."

"Yes, Master." His voice was a death rattle, a serrated blade across bone. Within the layers was apprehension. And anticipation. Sidious could already see that faint tremor in Vader's spine, and the way his stomach muscles tightened. The longer he was without a breather, the more inefficient his lungs became, and the less oxygen could reach the rest of his body. It was a game that could only have one outcome.

"There are many others who can take your place," he said, almost a purr as he held aside the black fabric. Now Vader's eyes did drop to what was now his purpose, the hardening organ that hung exposed. Sidious would not come to him. The wretched creature had to exert himself, use his limbs to shuffle forward though any contact with his skin and the black obsidian floor was pure agony, like shards of glass rubbed into an already open wound. He was breathing hard, now, but he didn't make his emperor wait.

Sidious sneered down at the burned man as he felt Vader's lips reach for him, and pull him into the wet heat of his mouth. His fat tongue rippled underneath the shaft, cushioning and cradling his cock as he pulled him in even deeper. His lips tightened around the base, and the head of Sidious's cock bumped into the back of the other man's throat. Now Sidious's jeweled hand emerged, cupped Vader's coarse cheek, and slid around to the back of his head, holding him as one might hold a newborn babe. He could feel Vader's revulsion, his barely contained shudder from the contact.

It was not a gesture of affection. When Sidious pushed forward with his hips, his hand held his head in place. Vader gagged, choked, and Sidious pulled back so he could breathe, only to thrust again. His other hand slid down to Vader's jaw, fingertips brushing his neck as he maintained a steady rhythm, so he could feel the muscles stretch to accommodate him from the outside.

Each time he felt his stiff organ penetrate the back of Vader's throat, he only wanted to push harder, farther, deeper. He wanted Vader to swallow him down, to feel his broken body from inside of it. There were other ways to do this, but for now, Sidious needed to hear the obscene choking noise the younger man made as he lost the ability to control anything. He was just a hole. A warm, moist, tight hole with a pair of burning ember eyes, spilling with strangled tears and pure, unadulterated wrath. Somehow, Sidious found this more appealing now that his apprentice was little more than a limbless torso. It really illustrated their power dynamic between them. As though there were any question.

Sidious let go of Vader's skull at the same time that he rammed into his throat. Vader fell backward, flailing, before he landed on his back, and rolled to his side, heaving. His breath was a high-pitch whine. His every muscle strained and tensed as he struggled for oxygen. Sidious watched him as he removed his cloak, let it drop to the floor. He walked with deliberate languor toward the breathing mask. Bent over, picked it up. As the torso arched back, his eyes wide, unfocused, oxygen starved, Sidious reconnected the mask to the tube, and dropped it on the floor a few feet in front of Vader.

 _It doesnt reach that far_ , he told him with a benevolent smile.

Vader had to writhe, squirm like the lowest worm, one that subsisted on detritus and offal that collected at the bottom of trash compactors, to the breather. His right arm, longer than the left, scraped the floor, maneuvered to pull his torso forward inch by agonizing inch, until he collapsed. He burrowed his face onto the mask, and the suck of compressed air filled his lungs. When he exhaled, it was nearly a sob. In, a hoarse whine, out, a vocal groan. Sidious approached him again, looking down at the muscular back, the straight spine, the sinewy hips beneath ripples of never-quite-healed scar tissue. The effort of crawling bare-skinned on the floor had abraded his flesh so that it appeared cracked and bleeding. His ribcage swelled and contracted. He thought they were finished, that he'd made his penitence.

Sidious gathered the power into his fingertips, felt them crackle. Just enough. He reached down and gripped the belt that held the sith apprentice's waste collection diaper. He heard the gasp when Vader realized what his master was doing.

"Master," he rasped, his voice muffled by the mask, trying to look behind him but unable to.

Sidious touched his apprentice's back. Power sparked at the contact and the body flinched. Vader grunted. Sidious could almost hear that his teeth were clenched. He felt Vader's power begin to expand. So much rage, Sidious thought with admiration. So much pain. He pulled the belt apart, jerked the white garment down. He gazed with appreciation at the curves of his buttocks, mottled with scars as the rest of him, but still with its comely shape. He drew an appreciative hand down his lower back, over the cheek, and squeezed. The flesh felt like foam rubber, overly soft, fragile. Even that small contact made the made groan in agony.

Sidious's other hand joined the first, sparking the skin again, and his entire pelvis bucked. He gripped the other cheek and pulled them apart, exposing the tight bud of his apprentice's anus to his appraising eye. Sidious was practically salivating. He licked the tip of his finger, slicked it with his spit, before brushing it over the cinched flesh. Vader shuddered, as much from pain as from pleasure, and Sidious began to caress him there, swirling around the circumference of it, teasing him lightly with a tip just past the threshold, before returning to the ministrations on the exterior. He was getting hard again. Leaning over, he gathered the spit in his mouth and dropped it onto the clenched opening, spreading it with nimble fingers around and just inside. The warmth inside of his ass was enough to make Sidious's eyes roll back. He slid the entire finger in easily, crooked it and brushed the bulb of Vader's internal pleasure organ. The other man groaned, wanton, and despite the pain, his back arched back, lifted his hips toward the older man.

Sidious smiled. His creature. His triumph. His whore.

He pulled his finger out, pulled apart his cheeks, and watched as the tight bud relaxed, just an iota, beckoning him in. Just enough. He pushed forward, nestled the head of his cock against the hole. Vader tensed. Half a heartbeat later, Sidious sank into him, forcing the scarred flesh to stretch around him dry. Vader cried out, his head whipped back, and Sidious released a charge of electricity into Vader's lower back. Vader's anus clenched, almost painfully tight around Sidious, and he groaned with the sudden delicious grip on his organ, and without ceasing the flow of current, bore down on his writhing toy until he was buried to the base. Vader's muscles and organs convulsed around him and he gave him a rough thrust before severing the flow of Force energy.

Vader's hatred raged inside of him. But, there was a pervasive vein, a constant undercurrent of devotion, and perhaps some corrupted version of love. Even now, his own cock stirred. With a satisfied grimace, Sidious set a punishing pace. He pulled out to the tip, and plunged to the hilt. Blood from Vader's torn skin eased his passage as he pierced him. He pushed Vader's lower back down, sank his fingers, clawed, into his hip to hold him in place as he used him. Tight, velvety warmth embraced Sidious's organ, and waves of heat encroached and rippled over him where they pooled in his lower spine.

He jarred him with his thrusts, took pleasure in watching his limbs move to maintain balance as Sidious continually sought to unbalance him. He leaned forward, grinding him into the floor.

"Do you want to satisfy me, Vader?" Sidious hissed.

Vader couldn't answer right now. His power was tremulous, unsteady.

 _-Yes..._ _Master._ _-_

He ripped his cock out of Vader's ass, gripped the back of his neck. With the other hand, he tore away the mask again. Vader gasped hoarsely, but Sidious didn't wait as he sidled around. He rammed his cock down his throat again, forcing his head to remain still as he fucked his mouth. Vader's slobber webbed as he heaved and gagged, unable to breathe at all, now. Sidious's cock head smashed into the hard back of his apprentice's throat, jarring the rest of him with ripples and echoes of carnal need until he felt the pressure in his back reach a crescendo.

Vader swallowed his cock, his throat muscles roiling, as Sidious released into him, shooting his come down the back of his throat. He pulled back, still spurting, dragging his stream of ejaculate into Vader's mouth before pulling out and squeezing out the last dregs on his face with a throaty moan. Vader fell onto his side, wincing for the sting of come that had gotten into his eye. His half arms scrambled for the breathing mask, and be buried his face into it, gasping, sobbing. Everywhere that Sidious had touched him was red and inflamed looking, or, as where his fingertips sank into his hips, oozing wet rivulets of blood.

Sidious tucked himself back into his clothes, tugged his tunic into place, and made sure every other part of him was in order as Vader struggled to regain his strength.

"Consider yourself absolved. Do not disappoint me again," Sidious said in a low, slightly out of breath, growl. He swooped down, grabbed his black robes, and then circled it onto his shoulders as Vader's body made its slow, painful way back to the bacta tank. Sidious wasn't concerned. This time, it had taken less than ten minutes. With an appraising eye, he decided that the bacta would heal his skin again in no time. Vader struggled into a sitting position and panted as the tubes began to find their way back to the ports. His diaper was still disheveled, but even his power was not so dexterous as to be able to don it himself. Vaneé would have to help him, an additional humiliation. With any luck, Vader's erection, which persisted despite everything, would be gone by then. But that was where the servant's eccentricities came in handy. He never questioned, never thought twice, never acted as though he even understood what happened in these meetings.

Vader looked to the console, and the controls chimed. The glass tube began to emerge from the floor. Vader did not look at his master as he sat, waiting. Sidious smiled. Perhaps now, his Sith protégé would prove more effective in his task.


End file.
